


A Day in the Life One-Shot - Snap Shots (Ianto POV)

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Jack being Jack, M/M, One Shot, Past Loves, tender moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: Sometimes it’s the day to day of living that gives us the best insight into a person, couple, or a relationship. With that in mind – and because my mind keeps tossing me little nuggets of story – I thought it would be fun to sprinkle little one-shots among the bigger, heavier storylines. To that end, we’ll have these “Day in the Life” tales. They’ll be short little vignettes. Some will be funny, some emotional, some erotic. But all will be either Jack or Ianto showing us the daily little mundane things in their lives, the things that they fight to preserve for us and for them. These tales are randomly posted and do not run in any kind of order in regard to the main stories.To quote Rhys Williams- “You do it so people can live their lives. And there’s nothing more important than that.”





	

 

**A Day in the Life One-Shot**

 

**Snap Shots (Ianto POV)**

 

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

I jogged into his office, searching for my diary. How it kept moving about I hadn’t a clue. I thought it had been well hidden this time, locked securely away in a metal box that was stashed under a tarp in an unused section of old holding cells. I suspected foul play.

Jack glanced up when I entered, his expression wistful. “Did you happen to see…” I opened with.

“Your diary?” He offered then held up the chunky journal.

“Yes, thank you.” I walked round his circular desk to fetch it. Scattered about his blotter were old photographs of people from bygone eras. “Paying the dead respects?” I enquired after taking my diary from him.

“In a manner,” he replied and held up a yellowed image of a man in a kilt wearing a bear’s head and flowing black fur cape. “This is Fergus McClarty of the Clan McClarty.” I smiled at his Scots accent. It was remarkably good. “I met him in nineteen twenty-two. He was part of a Torchwood investigation into the properties of transference. As in if you wore a skin for long enough would you begin to act like the animal the pelt had belonged to.”

“Fascinating.” I sat on the edge of his desk, placed my diary beside me, and studied Mr. McClarty and his bony legs. “And what did that investigation show?”

“That if you wear a rotten bear’s head long enough you reek like dead bear.” He grinned and I chuckled. The Hub was quiet now that the others had gone home. I quite enjoyed this time of the day when it was just Jack and me. He and I would head off soon, to my flat for the night unless he had a fancy to go hunt Weevil’s.

I placed the image on the desk and lifted another black-and-white picture from among the stack. “And who is this handsome bloke?”

Jack leaned up a bit. His smile faltered. “His name was Angelo.” I knew that look. This man had meant something to him. I sat holding the tattered picture while silently willing him to say something. “You’re not going to ask?”

I shook my head. “I know you well enough by now to know that even if I _do_ ask you’ll not tell me more than you wish to tell me. So, you can choose to fill me in or not. I’ll not push you for information you’re not willing to give. It makes me feel insecure to ask you about past lovers all the time.”

“I never meant to make you feel insecure.”

I shrugged. “It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve lived a long time. I know people come into relationships with a past - most generally not enough to fill several warehouses - but you are unique among men.”

“Would it help to tell you that out of all of them you’re the one who I feel the deepest connection with?”

“Yes, that would help a great deal.” I bent over to taste his lips, the moment like many others we had shared in this private space so far underground. “Do you have a picture of me in that box?” My fingers traced his strong jaw. I seemed to never be able to touch him enough.

“Can’t tell the players without a score card,” he joked then dropped Angelo’s picture back into the old wooden box it had come from.

I sat back as if slapped. “Why did you say that?”

His eyebrows knitted. “It was only a joke.”

“Your comedic timing is terrible.”

“Ianto, it was just something to lighten the mood.”

I grabbed my diary and stood up. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to joke right in the middle tender moments all the time.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted then took my hand in his. “Sit down, please. I’m sorry. God, it’s funny how many times I hear the same thing from lovers and yet continue to keep doing what they all complain about.”

“You find that funny?” I stood looking him in the eye.

“Not funny ha-ha. Funny pathetic.” He cupped my face. “I’m sorry. Stay here with me. I’ve spent far too much time alone in my life.” His fingers traveled to the back of my neck.

I stayed.

“Others have pointed out that annoying quirk of yours?”

“I’ve lost count as to how many. He said roughly the same thing.”

“He as in Angelo?” Jack’s touch along my nape helped slough off the hurt.

“Yes, he as in Angelo.” His expression shifted to a soft one, the harsh lines of self-recrimination easing a bit. “And no, your picture is not in that box. That’s reserved for those who are gone now. I hope to not have to add your image to that collection for many years.”

“So, where do you keep me?”

“In my heart.”

 

**The End**

**On Monday, Feb.6, “Echoes” begins. Hope to see you then.**

**Feral**

 

 

 


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